In theory, if one were to be a fan of yours, no negative biases whatsoever, but have evidence that is common knowledge about emotionally abusive relationships to showcase some rather dubious things that maybe being ignored, is it considered trolling or genuine concern for both parties?

???!!!

I hate to pick at or criticize you, bubba, given that you’ve been subjected to a fair amount of unfair garbage recently here in the Tumblrverse, but this line really struck me.

Power exchange is very much a non-illusory actuality in the dynamics and relationships of many leatherfolk, including several of my own. You make a fair point about power exchange being consent-dependent, but that doesn’t make it any less real. Given the simplicity (and corresponding potential efficacy) of your statement and the wide reach of your blog audience, I hope that you’ll either clarify or qualify.

Cheers, bub!

–Your Friendly Neighborhood FoxBear

What even is illusion? How are fantasy? Why does exchange power?

Words, man.

Let me try and rephrase it:

The fantasy of power exchange is an illusion. The actual power being exchanged is very real and critical to my relationship.

I feel like its pretty clear that the fantasy of power exchange is an illusion, but there are actually people out there who genuinely believe I have magic hypnotic powers that I use to brainwash people. Sometimes I have to explain how fantasy and power exchange actually work…but, these are intangible concepts that are best explained with example.

I write that tank has outgrown the known universe, but this is fantasy. He is the known universe and we can observe him continuing to grow at an exponential rate by measuring dark energy. His physical form is a construct he willed into existence that transcends space time to serve his mortal Master. Duh.

Real-world examples of power being exchanged:

Your boss tells you to do something and you comply. They have power over you because you are obligated to fulfill their requests in exchange for compensation.

You go see the new Transformers movie with your romantic partner. They have power over you because you will sit through a four-hour movie in exchange for sex afterwards.

A security officer at the airport tells you to take off your shoes. They have power over you because our society has a tacit agreement to put up with security theater in exchange for feeling more safe while traveling.

In these real-world examples you are agreeing to do something for something else. Giving up power in exchange for something else. This isn’t an illusion. We relinquish control on a daily basis. Sometimes the exchange is tacit, like social rules; other times its explicit, like negotiating chores with your roommate.

Abstracting the power exchange from the fantasy

In power exchange relationships, we negotiate power between people just like you would in my real-world examples. But now its sexy.

Look at the photo above. Its pretty obvious I’m not a real football player, but through the filter of fantasy…

I am sincerely interested in being a better partner and do everything I can to be a positive force for the people close to me. (Even if that means ending the relationship, eg lilpup).

Power exchange is an illusion. The only people who are fooled by it are these naive trolls. They completely overlook that rules and boundaries are negotiated, consent is maintained with regular check-ins, and that we’re like any other relationship. Just kinkier.

Just like any other relationship, we are not perfect.

…I’m the star linebacker, taking a break after practice.

And you…you’re the lightest flyer on the cheerleading team. I could shoulder-press you as a warmup weight.

The power-dynamic trope of football player and cheerleader is well established: you’re my bitch.

Or, that should be the case.

I’m just a big, clumsy jock, who’s generally too horned up to make my own decisions.

You’re smart, manipulative, and popular. It doesn’t take long for you to recognize that I admire someone so articulate. Before you can finish a standing-back-tuck, I’m hanging on your every word.

You string me along like an obedient puppy, a piece of arm candy for your amusement. I defer to you because I can’t understand most words you say, but certainly someone so smart has my best interests at heart…and gosh, its just much easier being told what to do. I am so grateful for that.

Better stop there. Started getting hot.

The power exchange is clear: I’m obedient, I defer to you, I do as I’m told. When the scene is over, the fantasy of me being this big dumb jock is over. I get my power back, we return to being equals.

Real power exchange, pretty obvious fantasy situation.

My examples are a simple attempt at explaining something difficult and intangible: the fantasy of power exchange is an illusion, the actual power being exchanged is very real.

@brandedbulltank had a very good bicep workout and ripped through his shirt at dinner.

Ah. Boner.

I like to think that there’s something in @noodlesandbeef ‘s cum that makes him and his pups grow.

But that’s just me…

I have to ration it or they grow too quickly like tank here.

Originally posted 2016-02-08 07:05:04

Anonymous asks:

The back beat of the music pounds in the club. All around guys are in various states of dress, some shedding their shirts, letting their sweaty bodies breath. The smell of musk permeates the dance floor. Off to one side, you see him. A slightly bulky body, wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts, a drink in his hand. He turns to leave the floor, and you follow him. You stalk him to the bathroom. As he is about to unzip, that when you strike. You stare him dead in the eyes. (Part 1)

Your scent fills his nose, and you see his eyes start to glaze over. You stare him down as he is hypnotized by your eyes. You plant a trigger in his mind, and then leave him, watching only to see him come out of his trance and resume his business. It’s not til later in the night that you see him again, the club starting to empty. As he walks past you, you trigger him, which causes him to follow you. You lead him to a back alley and make him kneel before you. You have him unzip you…

As your meat flops out of your pants, he starts to suck on the head, his tongue going down the shaft. Your cock is too big for him to take into his mouth, so he slurps as much as he can. A small stream of pre starts to ooze out of your cock head, and your insatiable little mind slave drinks it down. He stares up at you blankly. As he continues to suck your cock head, you can’t help but smile. It’s not long before you have to shoot, but he is more than capable of downing your seed.

A small bit of cum is still on his lips, you wipe it with your finger and he sucks on the tip with the same enthusiasm as he had before. As he cleans you and himself up, he stands back up and looks you in the eye, their gaze still blank. You let him out of his trance, sending him on his way. Later, after you have returned home, there is a jingle of keys as your pup enters, tired from a fun night at the club. He cuddles up next to you. You still smell your scent on him from the club.

Okay, anon, you got my attention.

Originally posted 2016-02-02 06:45:52

noodlesandbeef asks:

It is on CYOC! Whats the story you're thinking of? The protagonist in my story's name is "Dan"

Hypnosis vision prompt, part 3

In part 3, you guys overwhelmingly decided I should bring Clyde home. Lets see what happens next (click keep reading to read the next part):

My lunch break was a precious, 1-hour period where the gym wasn’t crowded and my energy was high enough to get a great workout. I had to be disciplined to get a complete workout done in under an hour, or end up skipping some exercises to return to the office on time.

“W-what would you like to workout today, S-Sir?” Clyde asked, stuttering adorably. At 6’4” and 340lbs, he was one of the biggest guys at our gym. A professional, sponsored powerlifter, who could lift three of me for a warm-up…and yet he was so shy around me he could barely speak.

Nevertheless, I had missed half my workout yesterday teasing Clyde and was determined to makeup for it today.

“I-I need you, Sir…” Clyde whimpered under his breath, tugging at the bottom of his tanktop like it was a security blanket, his triceps flaring outwards making him look even bigger.

“Yes, Sir! Thank you!” His eyes lit up as he flung his duffle over his shoulder. He was so eager to submit, it was intoxicating. The simple order had him tenting his shorts again.

“Kiss me.” I looked him firmly in the eyes, watching his fist-sized adams apple bounce as he swallowed. With his boots on, there was nearly a foot difference between us…he loomed over me, hunching down lower, just inches away now. His stubble rubbed against my face as we kissed…the mere contact was making him shiver, his knees wobbling.

I reached up on my toes, firmly grabbing the back of his neck to pull him deeper. His whimpers were so deep I could feel it in my chest while we kissed.

“Say ‘thank you, Sir’” I rubbed his face as the kiss ended.

“T-thank you, Sir.” He looked dazed, stumbling backwards as he tried to stand up straight.

“Its important to show how grateful you are, boy.” I gripped his thigh, pulling him a little closer. “Every touch, every interaction is a gift from me that you are incredible grateful for.” His eyes widened, nodding slowly…It felt like my words had such a profound effect on him.

“Understood, Sir…thank you, Sir.” He replied quickly.

I led Clyde across the street to my parked Mini Cooper, opening the trunk for our bags. The car was compact, tiny, perfect for the city and a small driver like myself.

“Get in, boy.” I barked from the drivers seat. He seemed to be having trouble… “Clyde?”

“S-Sorry, Sir. Its going to be a tight fit…” I looked through the open door, Clyde’s shoulders filling the frame. He grunted, struggling, bringing his massive legs into the car one at a time, his ass was so big it spilled over the sides of the car seat, his knees were pinned between the dash and his chest. The car swayed as he wiggled his 340 pound body into the car, his meaty forearm hanging over the wheel of my car. “I think I’m in, Sir.”

I couldn’t close the door…ended up putting him in the backseat. He had more room sitting across both back seats, but he was so tall he was forced to hunch over, his neck pressed to the ceiling.

My poor car whined under his added weight, it wasn’t used to pulling such heavy cargo. As we drove, I would catch his eyes in the rearview mirror. Intense blue.

“Here’s what I know,” I eyed Clyde through the mirror, “you’re straight, no experience with a man, and you’ve never submitted before.”

“Yes, Sir.” Clyde tried to nod, but his head was stuck between his pecs and the ceiling.

“And yet you are very attracted to me, completely submissive, and eager to do whatever I say without hesitation.”

“Yes, Sir.” Clyde’s eyes went wide…these weren’t new commands, but they were being reinforced as I repeated them. He could feel them becoming core to his personality, his every thought being filtered through his need to submit.

“My current best theory is that you’ve been hypnotized.” I smiled, content with my deductive reasoning. “You’re obsessed with growing bigger, relentlessly pushing yourself in the gym, like a big dumb jock.” Clyde whimpered in response, his thoughts were becoming more simple.

“It sounds like one of those hypnosis mp3 files.” I continued, chuckling. “It’s the first thing every hypnosis subject tries…You download the obedient-muscle-jock file because it’s free and you get awesome workouts, with a small catch.” I looked him in the eyes, “You end up forgetting all about the mp3, and they usually add some submissive programming. I must have triggered it…lucky me.”

We pulled into my driveway and I opened the passenger door to help Clyde get out, ordering him to grab our bags and follow me inside. I lived in a small San Francisco townhouse near the ocean, two stories, three rooms, tiny kitchen, and a backyard. Big enough for my pups and I, but it seemed smaller with Clyde in the room. His shoulders were so broad he had to turn slightly to get through our townhouse-sized front door.

“Anything to drink?” Clyde shook his head ‘no’ and I went into the next room for some water…when I returned, Clyde had stripped down to his jockstrap. He was on his hands and knees, thick powerlifter butt in the air, head down to the floor. When I stepped closer his back arched and he started whimpering…it was taking all my self control not to use him right then and there.

“Stand up, boy.” I patted my thigh twice and jerked my thumb upwards. Not universally accepted gestures in BDSM circles, but something I was hoping to get Clyde familiar with.

“Yes, Sir.” He said quickly, jumping up to his full height, his pecs bouncing, heavy with muscle.

“Look at me,” I said firmly, making eye contact. “As much as I want to have fun with you, I’m a little worried about you previous programming.” Clyde’s eyes were big, he was waiting for me to order him around. “Those hypnosis mp3s are horrible with subconscious programming…So I want you to forget everything since we met. I want to start with a clean slate. Understood?”

Clyde froze. His gaze trailed upwards and his eyes glossed over.

“You okay?” I pressed my hand to his chest and he gasped, startled.

“U-understood, Sir.” His voice was…different. Softer, more quite.

“Whats wrong, boy?” I was concerned by this subtle change…something wasn’t right.

“I don’t remember anything, Sir.” His eyes started to water, his hands rubbing against his thighs nervously. “I mean…I can’t remember anything since yesterday. Since I met you, Sir.” My mouth fell open, Clyde continued. “I know that I am a shy person, that I’m very attracted to you,” he blushed, looking away, “a-and…you make me so happy, Sir. Every touch, every interaction makes me so happy. I especially love when you boss me around…probably because I’m a consummate sub.” He was whimpering, having trouble finishing his thoughts.

I fell back against the wall, hand against my forehead…what had I done? I must’ve phrased the command wrong and now he’s forgotten everything since we met! I was nervously sweating, torn between wanting to ravage this boy and trying to figure out what was going on. Maybe it wasn’t some hypnosis mp3, maybe I had inadvertently hypnotized him? This didn’t make sense.

I looked back to Clyde trying to get an idea what to do next. He was on his knees looking up to me.

“Every touch I give you makes you so incredibly happy. Its overwhelming…and that feeling just keeps getting more intense.”

“You’re going to miss me, boy.”

“You’ll come to the gym same time tomorrow, wait for me.”

“I want to see an example sub tomorrow. Excited to see me, eager to please, and wear something short.”

Whew. Poor Clyde. Let see what happened the next day (keep reading to see my horrible erotic fiction):

Tomorrow, from Clyde’s perspective

“12:30pm,” I eyed the gym clock, fidgeting uncomfortably, tugging at the bottom of my tank top while I waited in the cafe at the front of the gym. The lunchtime rush was ending and my newfound shyness was in overdrive…or was it always like this? I couldn’t look anyone in the eyes, I could barely speak to the clerk at the cafe, my shyness was paralyzing.

“Deep breath,” I whispered to myself, feeling the tank top stretch tight across my pecs during the inhale. More people exiting the gym…I kept my head down, nursing my pre-workout coffee while searching my memories. Despite my size, strength, and accomplishments, I could only remember being completely introverted, timid, bashful. All those gold medals I had won for powerlifting? What I thought was exhilaration getting on stage was actually terrifying. I couldn’t look any of the judges in the eye…I can’t believe I was so composed in front of Sir! I had always been shy…especially around guys I was attracted to.

“S-Sir…” I gulped, my throat getting tight. I missed him, his touch, missed how he would boss me around. Something about being told what to do was such a turn on. I was able to deadlift a jeep at our last powerlifting meet, but this guy–Sir–made me feel completely powerless. It didn’t make sense…I was straight, right? I had, despite my crippling shyness, dated girls before. I wasn’t homophobic, completely confident in my sexuality, and I was attracted to women. And Sir. So attracted to Sir. Just thinking about him made my cock stir…could you be gay for one person?

Nevertheless, here I was, at the gym, same time, just as directed by Sir. I couldn’t miss it if I tried, my body seemed compelled to be here on time. The very anticipation of seeing Sir again was making me blush.

“I want to see an example sub tomorrow.” I whispered to himself, emphasizing sub, reliving the final words Sir gave me before leaving. I had no idea what a sub was, but I knew I needed to be an exemplary one. Last night was spent hunched over my laptop, eagerly researching. Google sent me to wikipedia, then some leather blogs…I even found myself reading some erotic fiction. It was all so fascinating. Each passage about submissive behaviour gave me a little rush, the words burning into my mind as I tried memorizing new behaviours.

“Clyde?” Sir called out my name as he walked closer. My heart skipped, I was so excited to see him, so eager to please him…it was overwhelming!

“Y-Yes, Sir!” I stuttered, suddenly realizing that I had gone from sitting at the table to my hands and knees on the floor, inches away from Sir’s shoes. This was the proper way to greet Sir. I had read about it online while researching submissive behaviour…and yet it already felt like a reflex. Somehow this was natural.

“Uh…hi?” Sir’s voice was uneasy. It felt like he was sizing me up, looking over my 6’4” 340lbs body. “Clyde, stand up.” His voice was timid, but the words had so much power over me…and I loved it. I jumped up to my full height, standing almost a foot taller than Sir, my shorts tenting obscenely.

“Wow…” Sir took a step back, staring at my rugby shorts. “Those are…very short…and tight. Clyde, I can tell that you’re cut.” He paused, going up on his toes so he could look me in the eyes. “Turn around.” His voice was more firm this time…while I loved being bossed around, this felt different. More like when I had first met Sir at the squat rack. His eyes were so dark, it felt like he was looking right into me.

My body complied before I could process what he had said. My thick arms hanging off my torso like heavy christmas hams, swaying with the momentum of my turning. “Yes, Sir.” I responded after turning.

“Heh,” Sir chuckled. I wanted to turn to see what he was laughing at, but my body stood firmly in place. “These shorts…they don’t completely cover your bubble butt, Clyde.” Sir cupped my right butt cheek, making me shudder…every touch felt like waves of happiness and pleasure. Each touch seemed to intensify the feeling. I started moaning softly as his hand made its way up my back.

“Y-you instructed me to wear something short. Is this okay, Sir?” I stuttered, struggling to find the right words when speaking to him. My mind was foggy with pleasure.

“Come back,” Sir instructed, pulling me around gently. I was thicker, broader, taller, but he moved me effortlessly. “You look great, boy. I like it when you dress in a way that shows off how big you are.” His eyes traced over my pecs, down my muscle gut, stopping at my package.

I mouthed “Thank you, Sir” but no words came out, just a faint whimper. I couldn’t speak…it was just like the stories I had read researching submissive behaviour last night.

“I’m really impressed, boy.” Sir reached up to rub my face, the slight contact making my knees wobble. I hunched down slightly to make it easier for him to reach. “I thought I was just projecting yesterday, but you really are a consummate sub.” He offered his hand and I dove at it like a hungry puppy, kissing it hungrily between gasps and moans. As he pulled his hand back, I let out a faint whimper, kissing at the air where his hand used to be.

“Beautiful.” Sir smiled, eyes locked on mine. “Do you belong to anyone? Any relationships I should be aware of?”

I paused, trying to find the right words. “No, Sir. I do not belong to anyone. My last girlfriend broke up with me a year ago.” Sir blinked.

“Girlfriend? Have you ever been with a guy before?” Sir’s tone had changed. He didn’t feel as assertive, instead his questions felt curious, uncertain.

“No, Sir. I have never been with a guy before.” Sir’s mouth hung open…this was making me nervous. Was I upsetting him?

“You instructed me to be an example sub starting today. I wasn’t sure what that meant, so I spent all last night reading about BDSM, leather culture, and submissive behaviour.” My voice was deliberate, quoting his orders from yesterday. “Excited to see you, eager to please, and that I should wear something short.” Sir was staring blankly at me.

This is really funny, because my preferred induction method is eye contact. Which means I could never turn it off. The moment someone looks into my eyes they become very agreeable, suggestible, ready for instruction.

Now, of course, I wouldn’t suddenly wake up and realize I had magic hypnosis powers. I’m pretty oblivious, so it might take a while before I realize I have such power.

I would probably go a week or more before I realized what I had. Inadvertently implanting all sorts of suggested programming with everyone I’ve talked to.

My discovery will probably happen at the gym, where 90% of my in-person social interaction happens.

Keep reading, I ended up writing, like, ten pages of fiction.

“How many sets do you have left?” I sheepishly asked the powerlifter as he racked his weight. He was huge, probably 320lbs, at least 6′4″, his perfectly groomed, blond mohawk added another 2-inches to his intimidating size.

“I have three sets left.” He said matter-of-factly without turning away from the squat rack, his bright, blue eyes locked on mine in the mirror. There was a pause…he didn’t break eye contact with me, as if he was waiting for me to speak to him.

“How much weight are you squatting?” I took a step closer, feeling this out. I was pretty sure he was straight, but he was hanging on my every word.

“315 pounds.” He replied immediately. Another very direct response, no hesitation. Something was off. He was still holding onto the bar, hands covered in chalk, his workout tights stretched so thin I could read the brand of his jockstrap.

“Only 315 pounds?” I chuckled, edging a little closer, now just a couple feet away. I could feel his body heat radiating outwards. “You’re huge. You should be lifting twice that.” He stood upright suddenly, chalk floating around him in the air.

“630 pounds.” He nodded at me, “Understood.” He stepped out of the squat rack, carefully squeezing past me, and immediately started loading more plates. His movements were so deliberate, almost robotic. When he had finished loading the weight, he stepped up to the bar…I was on the other side.

“I think I figured it out.” I smiled, looking into his blue eyes, “You’re shy.”

“I…I’m shy.” His eyes opened a bit more, his eyebrows relaxing from aggressive to pensive. His skin was so pale that I could see his face turn red…he was blushing.

“I knew it.” I was grinning…this huge powerlifter couldn’t keep his eyes off me. “Specifically, you’re shy around guys you’re attracted to.” I paused, carefully assessing his response, “guys like me?” I trailed off, bracing myself for swift rejection. I was prepared to deflect with a joke.

“I am attracted to you.” I blinked, surprised by his forward response. There was no hesitation.

“Oh. Heh…” I laughed nervously, stepping out of the way. “Please, finish this set.” He grunted in response, firmly grabbing the bar as he proceeded to perform ten, perfect squats. His meaty rump going down to his ankles, pulling his tights a little further with each rep. As he stood up to first position, the bar bounced under the incredible weight.

He racked the weight easily, turning to me as if he wanted to keep talking…except he just stood there, eyes locked on mine. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist.

“Whats your name, big guy?”

“Clyde.”

He was giving me nothing. I was starting to get frustrated.

“Alright, Clyde…you can address me as Sir.” I wanted this to sound tongue-in-cheek, since this guy was so literal.

“Understood, Sir.” He said quickly, without hesitation. Deliberately emphasizing Sir.

My mouth dropped open.

It all made sense. He was a sub. He was clearly waiting for me to speak first, too shy to make a move. My mind was reeling…what technique do I use in this situation? He’s practically presenting himself to me! I should just be direct, tell him my expectations, and see if he’s interested in submitting to me.

“Take off your shirt.” I blurted out.

“Yes, Sir.” He quickly obliged, his muscles tensing and bouncing as he peeled his shirt from his glistening torso, struggling momentarily over his lats before tugging the wet shirt free.

That was unexpected. I received zero resistance…

“You’ll do anything I ask of you, won’t you?” I opened my arms towards him, stepping closer. Just a foot away, his meaty pecs heaving with every breath.

“Yes, Sir. I will do anything you ask of me.”

“…and you’ll love it.” I watched his stern expression turn to a grin.

“And I will love it, Sir.” He was blushing hard now, his grin softening to a smile.

I reached up towards his face, making him step back suddenly. “Clyde? Whats up?”

“Kiss my hand.” I said firmly, watching his massive body step forward as he gently kissed my hand. “Good boy. You love when I boss you around, it turns you on.” I removed my hand from his lips and started rubbing the stubble of his jawline. “Every touch I give you, every moment, makes you so incredibly happy.”

“Yes, Sir.” He was visibly shaking now. I took a step back and watched him stumble closer, his quivering lip begging for more.

He was a consummate sub alright…but I was going too fast. If I gave into his submissive entreats, I might break him in the middle of the gym. I had to pull back.

“Here’s whats going to happen, boy.” I said firmly, handing him his shirt. “You’re going to put your shirt back on and finish your workout. Its getting late, I’ve gotta head home.”

“Yes, Sir.” His usual, deliberate tone had a hint of longing.

“You’re going to miss me, boy.” I reached up to pat his chest. “You’ll come to the gym same time tomorrow, wait for me. I want to see an example sub tomorrow. Excited to see me, eager to please, and wear something short.”

Alpha and I are on the hunt. Going bar to bar till we find a suitable candidate for tonight.

This huge muscle bull is hanging out at the end of the bar. No signs of any friends, just him and his rum/coke. There’s a ring on his wedding finger, but that’s not going to stop us.

I signal to alpha and he nods in agreement: candidate acquired.

Alpha joins the lone muscle bull and starts propositioning him. Overzealous sexual entreats that anyone would shoot down, but its a necessary part of the door-in-the-face technique. Simple social psychology that wears down the target’s ability to make decisions, eventually leading them to comply with a more realistic request. Basic persuasion.

I interrupt alpha, pushing him away as I come to defend this lonely muscle bull.

He’s relieved. My tone is much warmer, no direct asks, just making sure he’s okay. I build a quick rapport by accurately guessing his bodybuilding technique. He’s laughing, distracted, unaware that I’ve slipped something into his drink.

Each sip renders him more and more agreeable. He doesn’t even notice alpha is helping me carry him out of the bar, into the backseat of my car.

…

I slap the muscle bull awake.

His mouth is taped shut, chest and arms bound to a chair. Legs spread and locked in place.

He’s sobering up quickly, he recognizes alpha and I, the events of the night flashing before his eyes.

“The more you struggle, the worse it gets.” Alpha holds the bull’s shoulders firmly while I stand over him. “Ready?” I ask, grinning happily. The bull is sweating, his heart beating so hard I can see his skin vibrate.

I press play on the remote. Steven Universe flickers onto the screen.

“We’re going to watch every episode of the new season.” I place a bag of freshly popped popcorn in his lap. “And you’re going to love it.”